Poems in the wild #6

Last week I was feeling distinctly uninspired (as I have been generally of late when it comes to writing - even for me), so I asked the lovely Tim Sterne if I could steal a paragraph he wrote and chop it up into a poem. He's a nice lad, and he said yes. So it's kindof a collaborative effort. Kindof. I might have myself a business card printed up that says: Anna Ryan-Punch - Poetry Architect.

The card (queen of hearts) is still AWOL, but was released on a table in the front bar of Markov Place.


The woman in the motorised
wheelchair was once
a child with a secret.
When her bones fused with needles
her skin slick with sweat,
the window would swing open
and she would
rise
elegantly
above sodden bedclothes
float into the night air
drift above the city
watching lights blink
tasting nightclouds on her tongue.
They wouldn't have believed
she did fly.